Celastrus
by JayRain
Summary: FIN [Rated for adult content] Only once in her life has Samus felt like a complete person. Now she recalls that one time, and the one person who completed her.
1. Prologue: From the Ashes

_Prologue: From the Ashes_  
  
"...I've reflected upon his words and I see the wisdom in them. We are all bound by our experiences. They are the limits of our being, however imagination is the true limit of our consciousness. But in the end, the human soul will ever reach for the truth... and ever fall just short. This is what Adam taught me and what I've discovered for myself...."   
  
Samus sighed and took another swig from the bottle of liquor dangling from her hand. "Oh, forget it," she muttered, staring at the computer screen, the words now blurry and unclear. It had been a stupid idea to try and get her thoughts out in a journal. Damned conventional means of therapy... she'd rather cause destruction than resort to such ridiculous forms of "treatment." That would certainly make her feel better about everything that had happened recently, and maybe, just maybe fill up the gaping emptiness within her. She didn't even know why she felt the need to work through her thoughts and feelings; what had happened, had happened and there could be no changing it. To regret it or wish she could change the choices she'd made would do nothing but burden her with unnecessary guilt and self-doubt.  
  
With another sigh, this one loaded with feelings of frustration, she downed another swig, feeling the alcohol burn her esophagus and hit her stomach, where it would seep through the stomach wall and into her bloodstream. There it would course through her body, to be oxidized, only for her to need to repeat the process all over again, ad nauseam. It was a vicious, dull cycle that she'd been repeating for days now. Unfortunately, tolerance prevented her from achieving the blessed oblivion she wanted so badly.  
  
If asked she'd probably say there were a lot of things she regretted, but didn't dwell on them since she couldn't change them and understood that. The past was done; there was no reversing the damage, or unsaying words that should not have been said. There was no resurrection of the people she, as a bounty hunter, had killed. How many had fallen victim to her predatory nature? Dozens? Certainly. Hundreds? Probably. Thousands? Maybe not that many, but who knew? She'd lost count long ago. All the faces blurred in her mind, a fearsome fusion of indistinguishable features and forgotten situations. Their cries for mercy wailed furiously, but could only beat in vain against the bastion built from her long-dead conscience. Finally, all protests were silenced by a cannon blast, and placed aside to be battled at a later time. There was no undoing any of it; thus it was Samus' policy not to dwell on things she could neither control nor change.  
  
She doubted changing her past actions would make her truly happy, though. For some people, happiness came easily. To them, simple pleasures yielded the greatest rewards. For others, only the finest, most grand pleasures would do, but still, they attained happiness… were capable of attaining happiness. Some found happiness in success and power, and others in money. Samus Aran had success; she was far and away the best bounty hunter in the Federation, and the only one able to boast a 100% completion rate. With that success had come money. Lots of money. No one, not even Samus herself, knew just how much money she had distributed in the various accounts throughout the known galaxy. She paid bankers and investors to take care of her money; the more money she'd made, the less valuable it had become to her. Instead of a thing of value, money had become a representation of the killing that was her profession.   
  
At one time, the thrill of the bounty hunt in and of itself had brought happiness, but those days were gone. She was past thirty now; younger hunters raised on her legend were rising in the ranks. One day, not so far off, she would be past her prime and obsolete: little more than a memory. The money wouldn't matter, the success wouldn't matter, and the simple pleasures sure as hell wouldn't matter. She knew that this was the way of things, but it did not make it any less depressing.  
  
What **was** happiness to her, anyway? She supposed it meant feeling "less" empty. When she closed in on her prey, the emptiness subsided. When she collected her bounty, the emptiness lessened a little more. But then the feelings of contentment would ebb, leaving her back to the same state of emotional void she'd started at before.  
  
"Milady?" Asked Adam's computerized voice, catching her attention. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, Adam, I'm wonderful. Just wonderful. Bloody magnificent, even," she said, too weary to snap at him. The computerized version of her former CO had the tendency to ask questions to which the answers should have been obvious, but instead he found himself oblivious. It was one of the downsides of being incorporeal, she supposed; having one's mind reduced to a computer program probably left a lot to be desired in terms of interpreting the unspoken. The real Adam would simply look her in the eye for a moment and then nod in implicit understanding. The real Adam...  
  
Inwardly she groaned and moved to take another swig from her bottle, but the bottle was empty. She cursed under her breath and leaned her head back against the pilot's seat, rubbing her throbbing temples. The real Adam wasn't here any more and the last thing she needed now, when she felt like this, was to remember **that**. She found herself still thinking about Adam, the real Adam, not the computerized version that she now dealt with.  
  
Colonel Adam Malkovitch was the epitome of the Military Man: he was decorated Federation military personnel who had earned more medals and ribbons than most people knew existed. He had been in special services for a time, until injury forced him to retire from that realm of service. But he was a career military man, so he took on commanding a brigade of troops; a brigade that included a sullen, angry young woman by the slightly unusual name of Samus Aran. Most of the young men and women of the brigade had been raised in military families, or felt the need to perform a civic duty. Others wanted to get the benefits being a veteran brought along with it. A few just wanted to start over. Everyone had their reasons for being there, but Samus did not. No one knew where she'd come from; she simply showed up one day with a new uniform, a chip on her shoulder, and one of the best military minds, if the most volatile temper, of anyone within the brigade, comparable only to Malkovitch himself.  
  
Reverting back to reality, Samus inhaled the aroma of alcohol from the empty bottle and wondered if that would at least give her a slight buzz. She was too tired to get up and find another bottle. She knew she had one; she made sure to stock up at the last spaceport she'd landed at. She'd known it might be a while before she'd stop again; the Federation was looking for her. They "wanted to talk with her" about the events surrounding the Biologic Space Lab incident. But Samus Aran, shrewd and efficient Bounty Hunter, knew a euphemism when she heard one, and knew that "talking" translated to arrest and charges of treason against the Federation.  
  
"Milady..." Adam said again.  
  
"What?" She snapped, her drunkenness starting to pass already. Damned tolerance, she thought.  
  
"I thought you might like to know I'm picking up signs of a Federation vessel in the area," he said. "Since it seems you are intent on running from your problems rather than face them head on."  
  
"I face my enemies head on, but only fair ones," she said, dropping the bottle on the cockpit floor with a clank. "The Federation doesn't fight fair anymore. Sending me into a death trap... they probably even took bets on how long I'd make it."  
  
"You're angry and drunk, Milady," Adam stated plainly. "I'll change the coordinates."  
  
"Fine. You're the CO," she said sarcastically, leaning back in the seat. She pushed her hair back from her face and closed her eyes. Unbidden, an image of the real Adam came to mind. It had been years since she'd seen him, but his face was always fresh and clear in her memory. His rough features... a nose, slightly crooked from being broken one time too many... the chiseled lines around his mouth and eyes that made him look carved out of stone... and then his eyes, a calming, grayish blue that contrasted with the severity of the rest of his face, all flashed into her intoxicated brain, and she could do nothing to stop, nor did she know that she wanted to any more. She kept her eyes closed and spoke to the computer again. "I'm sorry, Adam. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you."  
  
"It's fine, Milady," he said, sounding as understanding as a computer could. "I understand that the present circumstances must be... trying."  
  
"_Trying_ is not the word for it," she said, slouching down further. The pain in her head was pounding now. "You've been gone for a long time. All these years I've known about your death. I watched the _Epsilon_ go down knowing you were the one to enable the self-destruct mechanism...knowing you were there in the central reactor core while I was there watching..." She broke off, aware that she was about to begin crying. Only once had she allowed Adam to see her cry, and then, she couldn't control it. She'd been young and inexperienced. She was older now and had seen much of the way of the universe since then. Much of what she'd seen—hell, much of what she'd **done**—was enough to cause others to weep uncontrollably for days. But she was stronger than that.  
  
"It's reasonable to cry, Milady," Adam said. "Tears are a manifestation of our emotions."  
  
"So are many things," she said flatly.  
  
Adam was silent, as was Samus. Wordlessly she engaged the cloaking devices and set her ship on autopilot. She was furious with herself for bringing **that** up again. But having Adam here now, when by all laws of life and death he should not be, flooded her with memories that were wistful, beautiful, and painful all at the same time. From the first day the gruff, computerized voice spoke to her she'd felt the tugging in her heart, and even as she risked her very life aboard the BSL station, memories of him had played through her mind. At some points in the mission, memories of Adam had kept her going. And when she'd realized at the end of it all that it truly was Adam Malkovitch, her former CO it had been almost too much to deal with. She half-jokingly blamed him for the heavy drinking she'd been doing since fleeing SR388's orbit. He made a good scapegoat for everything that had been going wrong lately.  
  
Adam Malkovitch had had a perfect military mind, but he'd also had what Samus herself lacked: the capacity to be complete. So much of her was missing as a result of her odd upbringing. While others ostracized her and criticized what they could not understand, Adam sought to comprehend her on _her_ level. He never asked her to be anything other than what she was. Perhaps it was that which earned her trust. Trust was not a value she'd learned among the Chozo; they were always suspicious, always carrying a chip on the shoulder and a hole in the heart.  
  
Samus had been raised as a Chozo, and even carried their blood within her. But she was just as much a _homo sapiens_ as the next human, and knew she needed something, **anything**, to fill the gap left from her Chozo upbringing. Drinking helped, but only until she developed a tolerance. Physical fighting helped sometimes too, but was a sure-fire way to lose her position in the military, and at that point in her life, she needed a semi-stable lifestyle—even if she herself was not stable. Even as a Bounty Hunter, when behaving unstably and killing for money was acceptable, that did little to fill the great void within her heart and soul.  
  
Only one thing had ever filled the void; and not only filled it, but caused it to overflow. Unconsciously she reached out and touched the computer screen, biting on her lip. Now more than ever, she was aware of just how alone she was. There had been the mutual break with the Chozo some dozen years before now... and of course the Federation had now betrayed her. She'd never been big on human relationships; knowing that any given day could mean a new bounty to hunt and the possibility of killing someone she'd connected with was something Samus just preferred to avoid. Only once in her life had she truly allowed herself to trust another person, and for that brief and blissful time she had miraculously not felt empty or lonely. But now that human was dead, ashes scattered throughout space while his mind was translated into bytes of data on a computer harddrive. And while she was grateful to have at least **that** during her travels through the galaxy, it did not fill in the gaps the way she needed it to.  
  
Wordlessly she got up and stumbled over to a compartment where she'd stored another bottle of liquor. 150 Proof. Good, she'd need it. Here in the cold dark of space, there was nothing left to do but get drunk and remember. 


	2. Chapter 1: Fire and Ice

_Chapter 1: Fire and Ice  
_  
Alec Tannian felt the woman's presence even before he actually saw her. Rounding the corner, the atmosphere grew chillier and more hostile. Sure enough, seated in a chair outside the Colonel's office, was Ice Queen Aran. Alec, like most of the members of the brigade, was fascinated and yet scared to death by her at the same time. She had a cutting intensity and an aura that preceded her, hinting not so subtlety at her volatile and unpredictable nature.  
  
She never talked to anyone, unless she was uttering some type of threat, and many times she just let her fists speak for her. Her impersonal manner and hardened exterior had quickly earned her the nickname "Ice Queen." Alec wasn't sure who exactly had coined the title, but it had circulated quickly and stuck firmly. Everyone called her that, both behind her back and to her face, but she never made any effort to correct them. She only flashed her signature smoldering glare and, from time to time, physically reminded people to stay out of her way. She didn't hesitate to beat the crap out of just about anyone in the brigade when she felt the need, and made sure everyone knew it, too.  
  
Alec had seen a few of the guys Ice Queen had done in. Some had actually gotten a few bones broken, while others were merely covered in an array of violet and green bruises. Rumors were this one guy, Ward, was practically crippled because of her. She was quick, methodical, and effective, and saw no problem in reminding people of just how dangerous she could be. Alec wasn't necessarily on her bad side, for which he was grateful, but then he wasn't on her good side either… assuming of course she **had** a good side. If so, no one in Lambda Brigade had seen it yet.  
  
In fact, the only good quality that she had was that she was probably the most stunning woman any of them had ever seen. Curves in all the right places and a tight body that just begged to be shown off, not that anyone had ever gotten such a chance to see it, to Alec's knowledge. Well, maybe Ward had, but he wasn't talking just yet. Aran had almost perfect proportions that most men would kill for to get their hands on. Too bad such a sweet piece of ass like that had to go to waste on-  
  
"Just what the _hell_ are you looking at, Tannian?" asked Aran's cold, disdainful voice, stopping Alec in his tracks. "Well?" she added, staring at him with icy expectation.  
  
"Certainly not you, bitch," Alec muttered well under his breath. He jerked his head toward the door she sat next to. "In hot water with Malkovitch again?" He asked as casually as he was able, but in truth he knew he'd be quite the center of attention in the barracks tonight if he could get her to spill what she was in trouble for this time. He could imagine himself explaining how he'd actually talked to the Ice Queen herself, and how she'd told him what she'd done, or whose ass she'd kicked this time... and how he himself had skillfully avoided an ass-kicking in the process.  
  
"Keep grinning like the idiot you are," she said distinctly, startling Alec from his delusions of grandeur. "If you have something to say to me, say it. If not get out of here or your grin may be missing a few teeth the next time you show it off."  
  
"Wow, you're testy," Alec snapped, covering his nervousness with bravado he did not feel. Something told him he probably should have gotten out of there and left her alone, but the idea of chipping at the Ice Queen's exterior was far more appealing than sensible thought.   
  
"Is that all?" she asked, not at all interested in his response.  
  
"I just want to know if you're in trouble again," he repeated, more bravely this time, though still unable to look her in the eye. He figured that if he ventured nothing, he'd gain nothing, and if Ice Queen Aran did indeed kick his ass later, at least he'd be in the brigade of those who had told her off, attempted flirting with her, merely annoyed her, or, in the case of Isaac Ward's rumors, seen her showering. He had to admit to himself that he'd be in pretty good brigade. The thought was slightly comforting.  
  
"Why do you care?" she asked. "Can you name one way my status affects you? Why do you even bother **pretending** to concern yourself with my affairs?" she said, sounding bored and disinterested, though now a slight edge could be detected in her voice. Her defensive maneuvers were quickly becoming offensive.  
  
Alec shrugged. "Well, you show up six months ago with a chip on your shoulder and a stick up your ass, and it never got any better," he said before he could stop himself. "Everyone just wants to know what your problem is."  
  
"That's too bad," she said in a low, yet still even voice. Her eyes narrowed. Irritated, she checked her watch and shifted her hard glare off Alec to Malkovitch's office suite.  
  
"Maybe he had another meeting that's running late," Alec said. "I hear he's pissed 'cause of what you did to Ward—"  
  
"Shut up, Tannian," came the voice, so even and emotionless that it sounded threatening.  
  
"No, really, word in the barracks is that Ward can't have kids now 'cause of you."  
  
"I said shut the **fuck** up—before your face says anything **else** that your ass is going to regret when I kick it later," she said, barely managing to check her fury.  
  
Suddenly the door opened and Colonel Adam Malkovitch stepped out, alone. His shrewd gaze passed between Alec and Aran. Aran had jumped to her feet and now stood at attention, and Alec thought for just a moment that at these times, when she stood at strict attention, the stick up her ass probably came in handy. The thought made him snicker, even as he tried desperately to hold it in.  
  
"Problem, Private Tannian?" Colonel Malkovitch asked smoothly, turning his eyes from Aran to Alec. "Wipe the smirk off your face, private," he commanded gruffly. "If you have somewhere to be, get there now. If you don't, I'll give you somewhere to be."  
  
Alec gulped and saluted, suddenly afraid he'd crumble under the identically icy stares of Aran and Malkovitch. "Yes sir!" he said, hating how his voice squeaked a bit, and hating even more how his stomach turned when Aran mouthed the word "later" to him as he made ready to leave. He hurried down the hall to his barracks, wondering just how long he had until "later" made his facial features unrecognizable.

* * *

"Come in, Aran," Colonel Malkovitch said after Tannian had departed. He stepped aside to allow her entrance to his office. "At ease, by the way," he said casually, though he was not surprised when she did not relax, her posture remaining fixed and rigid as she entered. He'd been trying for months to help her assimilate to the Brigade, and maybe even learn to relax a bit, but to no avail. Sometimes he wondered what lay beneath the wall of ice that served as her personality, but unlike many of the members of Lambda Brigade, he did not consider it his place to ask her outright. Her business was still her business.   
  
He gestured to a leather chair positioned in front of his desk. "Take a seat." She did sit, but on the edge of the chair, with her back still in stiff attention posture. Malkovitch closed the door and took his seat at his desk, surveying the young woman in front of him. "Damn it, Aran. Relax already."  
  
She continued to sit stiffly, gaze focused not on him, but on the wall behind him. She said, "Sir, if this is regarding Ward—"  
  
"It's regarding a lot of things, Aran. Private Ward's situation is just the most recent of them. I'm guessing Tannian was about to get himself on that list of things, if I hadn't interrupted the two of you," he said knowingly.  
  
This elicited a response from the icy Private. She appeared to be fighting a smirk. In any other officer or private, Malkovitch would have been irritated by the gesture and probably have told the individual to drop and give him at least fifty, if not more, pushups. On many occasions he had barked at Aran to drop. She'd given the required number of pushups effortlessly, stood, saluted, and taken her leave. At these times Malkovitch wasn't quite sure what to make of her. It was as if she enjoyed any form of challenge, be it mental or physical. Sometimes he wondered if she thrived on conflict. But as the months wore on and she became more isolated (if that were possible), he began to look at her with different eyes.  
  
Samus Aran was not the average recruit. He had no idea where she'd come from, and at the rate she was going, there was no telling where she'd end up. Malkovitch, known for building rapport and camaraderie between his brigade members, was at a loss initially as far as she was concerned. She had potential, he could not deny her that. She had a brilliant tactical mind, and had easily pointed out flaws in strategies designed for mission simulations, something which had gotten her in bad standing with some of the higher-ups. Physically, she had incredible strength and endurance, outperforming all of the other women and most of the men in every category. When it came to weapons exercises, she was a clean shot, accurate to within a half-inch at 1000 meters, even without computer guidance technology. She would have been an answer to any officer's prayers, if only she could use her prowess for the positive. The sad irony was seeing abilities so well-honed controlled by a mind so volatile, seeing such great potential wasted so badly. She'd wash out at the rate she was going now. On the other hand, if she could harness her rage, she would be an asset to any Brigade, and could quite possibly qualify for Special Services.   
  
But that was unlikely. To keep one's rage in check, one had to be disciplined and **want** to harness it. He could see no such desire in Aran. While she was good at what she did, she'd never be a higher officer; she had no rapport with people. He heard the men called her "Ice Queen Aran". While he did not necessarily approve of such name calling, he couldn't deny that it suited her.  
  
He eyed the woman seated before him, her deep green eyes frosted over with bitterness. As usual, she appeared angry; he had a feeling that for reasons she cared not to share, Samus Aran was angry with the known galaxy. Shortly after her first few fights he realized this, and also realized there was no beating change into her. Most cadets could be broken in by harsh physical training or labor, but Samus Aran barely batted the thick lashes of her hardened eyes as she completed her punishments and went off only to get into another fight. Malkovitch was nearing his wits' end coming up with excuses as to why she'd not been placed on probation just yet, let alone discharged. Something about her kept him protecting her on every occasion.  
  
Samus Aran squirmed a bit, her tense erect posture beginning to grow uncomfortable. Also uncomfortable was the way the Colonel had leveled his gaze at her, and now stared across his desk, eyes searching her. She'd always felt a curious combination of comfortable and uncomfortable around Colonel Malkovitch; she was never certain how he perceived her, and as a result she was never certain just how she should be feeling around him at any given time. Now, for example, he simply stared at her, and somehow she knew his eyes were seeing something others would not. She knew everyone called her the Ice Queen. She liked the nickname, when it came down to it. It fit her persona, and gave her yet another defense mechanism in her arsenal. Few wanted to see beneath the thick ice, and those that did wanted a glimpse out of sick curiosity. They didn't care about the reality of what was there. They just wanted to see if there **was **anything there. Samus refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing either way, since frankly, they didn't need to know, and even if they did, they didn't deserve it.  
  
But Colonel Malkovitch, he was a bit different. He searched her not out of curiosity, but a genuine concern. He wanted to know her, understand her, and of anyone she'd met in her short time with Lambda Brigade he was the only one she would even consider allowing to see the Samus below the surface. Thus she remained cool around him, though not nearly as distant as with the other Brigade members.  
  
Even though Malkovitch strove to do what others were to lazy for, he was still a military man with a commitment to the Federation. She realized, perhaps a bit too late, that maybe reminding Private Ward that she preferred her privacy while showering had been a bit too hasty. Malkovitch had told her after she broke Crowe's nose last month that she was treading on thin ice. "There's only so much I can do, only so long I can protect you," he'd told her, a gleam of urgent concern, flashing in his gray-blue eyes.  
  
Yes, that was it. He wanted to protect her. Protect her from others... maybe even, on some level she could not yet fathom, protect her from herself. She prided herself on resourcefulness and self-sufficiency; it had been the basis of her decidedly nontraditional upbringing, and yet this man wanted to be certain she was given the opportunity to remain in this traditional setting. It was stable here. She needed stability. She knew this, and he knew it too, which was perhaps the motivation for his enabling behavior.  
  
Samus suppressed a slightly confused sigh and reverted her thoughts to the present, where Malkovitch was still staring at her. At long last she relaxed the taut muscles of her back, neck, and shoulders, her attention posture dissolving into one that combined a feeling of defeat with a readiness to run. She eyed him warily.  
  
"Look, Aran..." he began, but changed his mind. "Samus," he said. Enough with the formalities, he thought. She'd been alienated by so many people already the last thing he wanted was to do anything that would push her away from him. "Why are you on the defensive?" he began cautiously.  
  
"Excuse me?" she asked, arching one eyebrow in suspicion.  
  
"Why are you defensive right now, with me," he clarified. "You look like you're about to bolt."  
  
"Perhaps because I am, Colonel," she told him wryly, crossing her arms over her chest and flicking her eyes back at the door.  
  
He grinned a bit ruefully. "Yes, indeed. That could be the case as well. But... just sit. Talk with me a bit."  
  
"Talk, Colonel?" she asked, the bitter edge returning to her voice. She grinned disconcertingly, her eyes still icy, the shutters drawn so he could not read her soul. Those eyes were the bane of his dreams some nights; on occasion he'd dreamed that he was in an ocean of icy green water. Waves pummeled his body and currents attempted to pull him into the depths where he would drown. Then he'd wake, gasping and sweating, unable to believe he'd had such a dream. What concerned him was that he'd been having the dream more and more frequently. His fantasies about Samus Aran were exhilarating, but frightening; and not because she was younger, or one of his subordinates, but because of her sheer intensity.  
  
"Talk's never gotten me anywhere," she said, unaware that she was interrupting his fantasizing. "It's much easier not to speak at all. They call me the Ice Queen, you know," she told him flatly, not at all surprised when he nodded. "No one else wants to talk; why are you any different?"  
  
"Because I've put forth effort," he told her, staring at her nose rather than her eyes. "I want to understand you, Samus, and I think I do."  
  
"You think you understand me," she stated, incredulous. "Of all the arrogant, misinformed–"  
  
He held his hand up, cutting her off. "I said **think**. I'd be arrogant and misinformed if I said I actually **did** understand you. This is what I meant by you being so damned defensive all the time." He leaned across the desk, forcing himself to meet her eyes again. "You're not all that happy here, are you?" he said quietly.  
  
"It doesn't matter," she said, but some of the edges in her voice had softened, and her eyes had become more liquid and less hard. There was a hint of confusion there, barely perceptible, but glimmering softly all the same.  
  
"It's a life," she added after a moment, averting her gaze for the first time.  
  
"It's not the life for everyone," he retorted sensibly. "I have medals. I have ribbons. I have accolades and whatever the hell else saying I'm an asset to the military, but you know what, I don't really give a damn about it, mostly because I don't do it for the medals. I do it because I can't do anything else with myself. We're bound by our experiences, Samus. We become who we are. You stick with this, you'll become a miserable person."  
  
"Thank you," she said dully. "I really needed to hear what I already knew."  
  
"If you already knew then why have you stayed here?"  
  
"There's nothing else," she said simply, with a shrug. How could she explain to him that a 21 year old woman with no traditional education and no discernible past did not have an opportunity for a 'normal' life? Then again, what was normal? She figured normal was anything and everything she was not. Most of the time she could accept this and go about her business, but times like these, when Colonel Malkovitch surveyed her so quietly and keenly, she became so very aware that there was something missing; Malkovitch reminded her, probably not intentionally, that she was not a complete person.  
  
"What do you want, Samus Aran?" he asked her finally.  
  
"What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked, growing flustered. In truth she knew what kind of question it was, but to try and find the answer within herself terrified her. She didn't have an answer, was what it came down to. It was easier to be defensive than admit she had no bloody ideas whatsoever.  
  
"It's an honest question," Malkovitch said calmly. "I don't think you really **want** to be the Ice Queen. And I don't think you really **want** to pound Tannian later on. So what **do** you want?" He challenged.  
  
"Damn you," she hissed through clenched teeth. She stood quickly, green eyes smoldering, her cheeks red with fury. "I'm leaving. Hell, I'm transferring to another brigade, or better yet getting the fuck out of the military altogether. That's what I **_want_**, Colonel," she spat. But even as she dripped venom, she realized something. Malkovitch had forced her to face her emptiness and challenged her to find what it would take to fill it.  
  
He had stood too, and now stared at her with a new expression on his face: pleading. He was pleading with her not to leave in anger and rage. Rather than pushing her away, or glad to be rid of her, he wanted her to stay. She felt her lower lip tremble a bit. No, she would not do anything of the sort here! Tears were not for hardened fighters, or Ice Queens, or women who were old enough to take care of themselves, and she was nothing if not all of the above. She turned her back toward him, but something kept her from leaving. She stood there, torn between Malkovitch and the door, scared to stay, yet scared to leave as well. If she stayed she would have to face the fact: she wanted something to fill her emptiness. If she exited she would be left with her emptiness, never knowing what could have filled it.  
  
She took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I should go now, Colonel," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. "Thank you for your time."


	3. Chapter 2: Kindling

_Chapter 2: Kindling_

"Samus, please," Adam said as he unconsciously reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. Later, he'd find himself unable to explain why he'd done it, only that at that very moment, it felt right. Something drove his thoughts and actions–something that he had no control over, but something he had no wish to deny. He felt her muscles tense beneath the grip of his hand, but he did not move it. He could feel the tension within her and knew she was determining whether this was a case for fight, or for flight... or maybe for something else entirely. Whatever it was, it had stopped her in her tracks, brought her back to him. He longed to reach out with his other hand and touch her hair, or maybe take hold of her other shoulder and pull her to him but he knew if he did this there was a danger that he would not want to let her go. He'd always felt intensely protective of her; he was almost old enough to be her father, but now, as she made ready to leave in a cloud of anger, he felt the need to hold her close until her rage had passed and she had calmed herself some.   
  
"Samus," he repeated, this time quietly, gently. He felt her shoulder droop a bit beneath the weight of his hand and wondered if she felt defeated. "Just stop a moment. You're angry. You know if you leave now you may do something you don't really want to do. That temper of yours..." He swallowed a bit nervously, aware of how his mind and very soul were willing her to stay.  
  
Samus felt her heart skip a beat, and then began to feel giddy as her pulse rate accelerated. His hand was warm on her shoulder, his warmth seeping through the material of her shirt and into her skin. It was a warmth she'd never felt in all her life, and the feelings it awoke frightened her. Yet she wanted more of it. She wanted the warmth to flow through all of her body. More than anything, she wanted to fill herself with that warmth. The desire was strong, an internal fire that threatened to consume her from the inside out if it was not satiated. Unlike a fire, this did not warm her, only made her colder and colder the longer she denied it. Almost trembling from this rush, she turned to face him.   
  
"My temper is just fine," she said in a shaky voice. "There's no need for you to worry about it..."   
  
But he was right, much as she hated to admit it. If she left now she probably **would **do something she'd regret later. Then again, if she stayed, she might do something **else **she'd regret. Immediately, she pushed the thought away. The man standing behind her, touching her... he understood her in a way none other ever had, nor probably anyone else ever would. It would be impossible to regret anything that happened between them. Even she, Samus Aran, icy and frigid bitch to some, could not deny that she was feeling something… something powerful. If anything began to happen in her, there could be no stopping it.   
  
He guided her closer to him and she allowed it, though she didn't know why. He cupped his other hand at her lower back, securing her position in front of him. He searched her, taking in her features as though he had never seen her before. She stood there, so very aware of his hands upon her; there was warmth in her shoulder, and now in her lower back. The sensation slowly coursed through her waist and hips and, to her horror, teased at her most carnal of flesh. No! She screamed in her mind. This could not feel right, could not be right. And yet, even as her cold rationale demanded that she pull back **_now_**, she found she could not make herself do so. Rationale be damned: this sensual need, older than rationale and intellect, older conscious thought, was all that mattered at this moment, frozen in time.  
  
She wondered what she must look like to him at that moment, standing there awkwardly, trying to deny something that she knew would eventually win out anyway. She wondered how he would perceive her. As a slut? An ambitious soldier looking to sleep through the ranks? Just an easy lay? This last option frightened her the most, because she wanted to be more to him than that. In him she found understanding; he accepted her on her terms, something no one else had ever done. To be little more than a quick romp in the sack, an easy conquest, would be unbearable. Almost against her will she had images of the gossip that would ensue... "Did you hear about Colonel Malkovitch? He actually managed to fuck Aran!" one nameless Private jeered. "I guess she really is a chick," another said, while still another responded, "Looks like even Ice Queen Aran gots needs." She could hear the mocking following her wherever she went and see the image she'd tried to create of herself destroyed irreparably. She tried to clear her head of the images and focus on Adam again. She found her voice. "Colonel–" she began.  
  
"Adam," he whispered, pulling her closer. "Right now, I'm just Adam."  
  
Her breathing intensified and her heart began to race as the emotion and sheer desire swelled within her. "Adam... W–What do you see when you look at me?" His hand moved from her shoulder, and his fingertips, slightly, though not unpleasingly, rough, caressed her cheek. She felt her breath catch in her throat. It was as though her heart was pumping electricity through her veins, rather than mere blood. His touch, so innocuous physically, wreaked havoc on her thoughts and emotions.  
  
Adam looked at the woman before him. So many times he had gazed at her, carefully compartmentalizing his feelings. But why? What had he seen then? What did he see now? Every physical feature was familiar to him, indelibly etched on his brain. In his dreams he had seen the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the prominent nose, the chin tipped in intense, yet quiet defiance. Most clear, however, were her eyes, those bottle-glass green eyes that shifted from hard and icy, to liquid and vulnerable at a moment's notice. He'd often held to the old-fashioned notion that the eyes were the windows to the soul, which was perhaps one of the reasons he'd so often fantasized about her eyes. He simply longed to explore her soul.  
  
He unconsciously pulled her even closer; now their bodies were dangerously near one another, mere centimeters separating them. He could feel her tense up, but it was more of a gesture of anticipation. She was a spring, coiling tightly, prepared to release.   
  
"Adam?" her shaking whisper startled him a bit. He clasped his hands more tightly against the hollow of her lower back, and feeling a rush of relief when she did not resist. "When I look at you, I see... so much," he said, taking in the scent of her, now that she was close enough for him to do so. "I see a fighter, hardened by battle."  
  
"Is... is that all?" she asked, dejection evident in her voice.  
  
"No," he said, beginning to feel intoxicated by her very presence. Everything about her, all that was Samus, filled him. "I see a lonely, misunderstood woman... I see a lost child who doesn't know what she wants, but feels the need to pretend she knows." He tightened his hold on her even more. "Do you know what you want?" he asked, not sure how he felt about hearing the answer.  
  
Samus felt his hold tightening about her. Without thought or hesitation she closed the infinitesimal distance between them. The moment her body touched his the electricity in her exploded in a burst of power. She wanted this. She wanted to melt into him and become a part of him and have the wholeness she'd lacked for so long. She felt him, his essence, his soul, invade hers. She had no control over it, but she no longer cared about control. She just wanted to lose herself with him, **in **him. No longer did she feel repulsion at the urgency growing between her legs, only desperation to quench it.  
  
Ah, the question, he had asked her a question. "I want this," she whispered, "More than anything I want this." She tilted her chin up, drinking in everything that was Adam. She reached her arms up and encircled his neck, pulling him closer to her, wanting to incorporate him into her. The only right would be for them to join in a melding of body and soul. To be two bodies was now so wrong it was blasphemous.  
  
He looked down at her, the intensity in her eyes almost terrifying to him. She wanted this. Oh God how he'd waited to hear her say that. He wanted it too, more than he'd give himself credit for. No longer would he have to rely on dreams and fantasies; the real thing stood here, pressing her body against–no, into–his, her eyes begging him to take her.  
  
He brushed his lips over her forehead, almost hesitantly, ironic considering the circumstances. He'd felt the erection growing from the moment she stepped into the room–not out of perversion or animal lust, but because she had that intense power over him that she did not realize. Power to make his emotions manifest. She was now trembling beneath his hands and lips and against his body–any minute the spring would let loose. He tilted her head and leaned in, tentatively brushing his lips against hers, and suppressing a grin as she gasped, tightening her arms around his neck, forcing him to remain this close to her.   
  
Samus had to suppress a slight moan as his lips brushed against hers. He was teasing her now, and she would not suffer any teasing. Her body was suffering enough as it was. She could feel his hardening manhood against her thigh, intensifying her own desperation. She didn't just want this. No, she needed it. His lips passed over hers again, and this time she responded with a ferocity she did not know she possessed. She pressed her mouth against his, tasting him, and feeling pleased when he responded to her. He hadn't shaved, and his stubble scratched at her skin, but she drank it in, allowing herself to be fully aware of every mental, emotional, and physical sensation. She felt something welling up within her, a feeling she'd never truly felt; a feeling so intense and beautiful she felt tears start to touch her eyes.  
  
Adam pulled away for one moment, still very conscious of the taste of Samus on his lips and in his mouth. He was intoxicated, drunk on her, yet something puzzled him. "You're crying," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. He had never seen her cry before... in fact, if asked, he would honestly have had the opinion of the other men in his brigade: that Samus Aran was incapable of tears. She had shown herself so emotionless in so many situations, that it was now alien to him to see teardrops collecting in her thick eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks. It disconcerted him. It scared him. He gently caressed her face. "Am I....should we stop?"  
  
"No. God, no," she said hoarsely.  
  
What was about to happen both thrilled and frightened him. The consequences of this action were severe if they were found out, and even if they weren't there were repercussions that could follow them forever. His need was so strong, and it felt like hers was as well. Even as tear drops rolled down her cheeks, she was urgently pressing her body to his. "Samus. Do you want this," he stated, as anticipation, fear, and pure desire swelled into an emotional cacophony within his brain.  
  
"Adam. I... I don't just want this," she said intensely, her breathing now coming in quick gasps as she struggled, rather futilely, to control her body. "I need this. More than anything. I need... you. Us." She paused a for a moment, repositioning herself against him. "I need to be whole. I'm so tired of being incomplete," she said fiercely.   
  
Her eyes were smoldering, burning into him as she held onto him. Her body was tense in his arms. He knew he needed it too, knew if he did not take her now he may never get the chance again. His urgency was growing; his heart was pounding, his desire sweeping away any vestiges of rationale he may have had left. He needed her. She needed him. They both wanted each other, wanted this, repercussions or none; and the consequences could burn in hell. Consequences no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was the mutual desire that engulfed them.  
  
Hands trembling with anticipation, he took hold of the hem of her shirt, and slowly began to remove it.


	4. Chapter 3: Consumed and Completed

_Chapter 3: Consumed and Completed_  
  
The cotton of her shirt slid over her torso and arms in a smooth motion. Adam let it fall to the floor, where it lay in a quickly forgotten heap. Samus could feel his hands warm upon her skin, the resulting feelings leaving her at a loss for words. She was painfully aware of her naivete; these feelings were so alien to her, she had no idea what she should be doing with her hands, her mouth, or, for that matter, the rest of her body. Adam's deft yet gentle fingers had unhooked her bra, and now she stood before him naked from the waist up. She felt a flush creeping into her cheeks, and nervously bit her lip, unsure of what to do next. Adam, with whom she'd been so comfortable only moments before, now intimidated her.  
  
Adam gently clasped his hands at her back again; her skin was warm and soft beneath his touch. He could feel her tension, though she no longer seemed like a coiled spring, ready to release at any moment. "Are you afraid?" he asked gently, moving his hand to tilt her chin upward, so he could meet her gaze. In the depths of her eyes he saw uncertainty and fear, but there was also unbound excitement and anticipation. This was no emotionless Ice Queen standing before him, but a warm, emotional young woman. The change in her was astounding; it took his breath away.  
  
_Was she afraid?_ Samus wondered this, mesmerized by his intense gaze boring into her. She supposed, when it came down to it, that yes, she was afraid. In her mind there had always been very little difference between herself and any other male soldier; sometimes she felt she had more in common with the males than the females. The only true difference she saw between herself and the men was in the anatomy, and that was an inconsequential difference at best. Then again, having grown up among the ascetic and emotionally distant Chozo, Samus had never given thought to those parts of her that made her distinctly female; and certainly never before now had any situation or any person made her so aware of her femininity. His hands upon her bare flesh, his eyes, so understanding and concerned staring into hers, his lips now pressed upon her mouth: all woke in her a new dimension in which to exist, a dimension in which she was not merely a soldier in the Federation military, but a woman in every sense of the word.  
  
Adam pried his lips away from hers for a moment, leaving her gasping for breath. He repeated, "Are you afraid? Do you want me to stop?"  
  
"No," she said decisively. As if to prove her willingness, she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Her movements were a bit awkward, but she was determined. She inhaled sharply as she peeled the shirt away from him, moving quickly so she did not have time to lose her nerve. Haltingly she slid her hands up his torso, removing his white undershirt in the process, and marveling at the way his body reacted to her touch. She slipped the shirt over his head; now it was her turn to stare, entranced by the masculine form before her. He was certainly nearing forty years of age, but his abdominal and pectoral muscles retained their definition. Samus had seen this sort of thing before while training in the gym, but never had a well-muscled body had the power to make her feel the sensual feelings she felt now. Tentatively she placed her hands upon him, curiously aware of the way Adam inhaled sharply at the touch.  
  
Samus had never imagined that she would have power over a man, much less one so much older and more experienced. In him she saw completeness and fulfillment, and her incredible need for those qualities quelled her doubts and uncertainties. She focused on him, allowing her hands to roam over his chest and shoulders, exploring his physique and observing it with her hands rather than her eyes. She finally clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling herself closer to his body. She wanted the energy again. This time she wanted it raw and undiluted, without the barrier of clothing. She held herself to him, conscious of the seamlessness of their bodies, pleasantly disconcerted by the waking feelings within her hips and pelvis. She craned her neck and met his lips, relishing his taste upon her mouth. The eagerness was uncontainable, and even before she consciously realized what she was doing she had parted her lips to allow his tongue entry to her mouth.  
  
In any other woman Adam would have found such eagerness off-putting, and would have ended the encounter right then with some sort of excuse. Yet the naive aggression with which she acted was endearing in a way. Her hands explored his body, and her lips kissed his as though they had never contacted a male physique before. The way her body trembled from his mere touch excited him, yet he held back and let her explore, enamored by her innocence.  
  
She was so real at this very moment in time. Before now she had been this image, an idea in which he had glimpsed starved potential. He figured she was starving her potential to be a good soldier, but now realized that she was starved of her potential to be a complete human being. The idea that she had gone so empty for so long made this time with her all the more necessary. He held her tight, hands kneading at the warm, soft skin of her back, all the while keenly aware of the feeling of her breasts and torso pressed urgently to him.  
  
The feelings were intensifying. Samus found it difficult now to control her body and maintain an awareness of her situation. The office had disappeared. The anger and bitterness and list of people to beat upon were squashed by the dense emotions filling up her void. She was losing herself with him–his hands on her, his body against her, his lips upon her–now she needed to lose herself with**in** him. The taste of his mouth was addictive; the more she had the more she wanted. Kissing him was the same situation: the more of him he gave her, the more her body and soul required in order to maintain this incredible euphoria. The Chozo, living in asceticism, were so ignorant; they did not know what kind of lack they caused with their denial of pleasures. In a forgotten, still-conscious corner of her intellect Samus could not believe it had taken her so long to realize her incompleteness and find this amazing antidote to it, named Adam.  
  
At last there was no more holding back. Mouths still locked onto one another, the two struggled out of shoes, socks, trousers, fingers fumbling awkwardly with buttons and zippers, hands feverishly removing trousers and underpants in one motion. Fully naked and fully desperate, Samus could feel him, all of him, against all of her. His hands explored her newly exposed flesh; her heart beat furiously against her chest. In fact, it felt like all of her was threatening to burst through her skin. There was only so much her physical body would be able to contain. She was reaching her limits, and very soon she would explode.  
  
Adam could feel her; not just her body, but her energy, her very life force throbbing against him. It excited him. He slid his hands down her body, resting them on her hips. This was the moment. After this there was no going back, no returning to a time where they had existed as separate entities. Would they regret it? Would they be embarrassed? Or would it be a forgotten tryst that had served only to satisfy desire? As he sunk to the floor, taking Samus with him, he knew for himself at least the answer to all of those questions was no.  
  
He pulled away from her mouth and gazed down at her, taking in the deep pink flush in her cheeks and the giddy fire in her deep green eyes. With one hand he smoothed her hair back from her face, just taking this frozen moment to observe her as she was now, before there was no turning around. After this moment the bridges would be burned. Neither of them would be the same.  
  
"Are you ready?" He asked softly, stroking her hair.  
  
"Yes," she said breathlessly, staring up into his eyes, which were still so calm and collected in spite of the raging storm that seemed to engulf the both of them. She was almost complete. She could feel herself filling, almost to the brim, and yet not quite there yet, no matter how much Adam caressed her or kissed her or held her body against his. As close as they became, they were still two bodies. She was uncertain about this; she was even a bit scared. But she was ready for him to complete her.  
  
Adam placed one hand on the floor, and the other on her hip, positioning himself against her, feeling her tensing. Her eyelids drooped shut over those stormy green eyes, and her breathing had gone from quick and shallow to deep, shuddering breaths. She was calming herself, preparing herself for him, an act that made him momentarily reconsider what he was doing. As he began to enter her, he realized why she was preparing herself.  
  
He wasn't sure why he was surprised by this. After all, Samus detested the other men in her brigade, and was thus more likely to use her incredibly powerful body for things other than sex. And unlike most of the other women serving alongside her, she did not go around broadcasting the weekend's exploits. Now he understood why: there had never been any exploits. He was the first one to see her like this, to be with her on this level. It was a frightening revelation.  
  
"Samus," he said, still in his awkward position, "I—"  
  
"Don't stop," she demanded in a small, trembling voice. If this was to be her first time, she wanted it to be with Adam, this man who made her feel so very close to whole. He was giving her what she'd lacked her entire life, and now he wanted to stop, simply because of her virginity? She could feel him against that carnal area she'd so long ignored, and the feelings it aroused down there made his concern more of a cruelty. Though he meant well with his hesitation, she could not wait any longer. She slipped her hands down over his torso, feeling the power contained within his muscles, and realizing it was power reserved for the act of lovemaking he was about to perform. Touched by this realization, she moved her hands tentatively to his hips, and then to his buttocks and pulled him closer to her, signaling she wanted him to enter her and make her a whole person.  
  
He did. Samus could not lie to herself: this did hurt. Naively she'd assumed that because for most humans acts of sex were so natural her body would know how to respond. She'd heard the other women talk of how a man could make them react; they all seemed to enjoy it well enough, and there had never been any mention of pain. Now she was keenly aware of him inside of her, and she wondered briefly if she was now in over her head, if Adam was too much for her, if she should have listened to the voice in her head telling her to leave when she still had the chance....  
  
Adam pulled withdrew a bit, and moved back inside of her. The eruption of sensation within her pushed all doubt away. She felt her hips rise to meet his thrusts, which were now building to a rhythm. While she wanted to lose herself completely, she still had to concentrate on him and his movements, trying to choreograph her own motions so they were in sync with his. There was still pain, but it was fading a little bit.  
  
After a few halting moments, Adam laid one hand upon her hip and gently guided her along. As Samus felt herself synchronize with his thrusting, she felt her pain disappearing entirely, replaced with euphoric bliss. She was one with him now, their bodies moving in one fluid motion and their souls touching and entwining. She didn't know which was better: the physical manifestation of desire, or feeling her own soul so tangibly. She felt that she'd been distanced from it for so long.  
  
She ran her hands up his back, senses enhanced from the rush of pure adrenalin coursing through her. She felt his muscles working in perfect unity; she inhaled his scent. He smelled clean, as though he'd had a shower before her arrival. Her hands roamed up and pulled his head close to hers, whereupon she allowed herself to meet his lips, and savor his distinct taste. The rest of the world disappeared completely as she lost herself with him and in him.

* * *

She did not know how long their lovemaking lasted, and even when he at last withdrew from her, she still lacked a sense of time and space as she drowned in the euphoria that still swirled within her. Completion. Wholeness. Oneness. One could call it whatever he or she liked; no matter the word, Samus had the feeling of it. She did not feel quite so empty. She felt the way she imagined most 'normal' people felt. She felt liberated from the dark emptiness that had plagued her so long.  
  
She stared at Adam, still holding her to him, but it was a gentle, comforting hold rather than the frenzied grasp of earlier. He was warm, so very warm and solidly reassuring against her. There was still energy pulsing between them, binding their minds and souls. His hands stroked her hair delicately while his eyes stared into hers with a sense of caring wonder. Samus still felt a bit breathless recalling what they'd just shared; part of her wanted it again, while the rest of her wanted this—the softness of his touch, the understanding in his eyes.  
  
She sighed. Slowly reality was creeping back in, infringing on them. Soon they would have to part. He would go back to being the Colonel, and she would go back to being the distant Ice Queen. For reasons of propriety, their moments of being Adam and Samus, just a man and a woman sharing one another, would either be few and far between, or completely nonexistent.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he asked her softly, searching her gaze. Her eyes, so determined and passionate not long ago, were now mournful. She looked like she was about to begin crying again.  
  
"No... nothing's wrong," she replied in a soft voice, reaching up a hand to caress his cheek.  
  
"Will you be alright?" he asked.  
  
Samus smiled. "Yes... I'll be fine. I'll be better than I've been in a long while," she told him sincerely. She withdrew her hand and propped herself up. Adam sat back, still staring at her. Suddenly feeling a bit awkward, she fumbled around on the floor to find her clothing. Wordlessly Adam helped her, watching as she began slipping back into the pieces of her uniform.  
  
He sighed as well, and this time he followed her lead. As he dressed himself again, he realized how everything they had shared and enjoyed was already beginning to disappear as they replaced the costumes they wore in the play that was reality. The reality they existed in would not appreciate, let alone approve of the uniting of body, mind, and soul they had experienced. The reality they existed in would be quick to condemn their actions, no matter how good either of their intentions for one another were. Adam Malkovitch, always the paragon of a military man, found himself unhappy with his reality for the first time ever. He closed his eyes for a moment and recalled her body, beautiful and strong, but innocent... he thought of her sweet scent and the taste of her on his lips and in his mouth.  
  
"Colonel?" she asked softly, making him open his eyes to see a fully, neatly dressed Private Aran standing in front of him.  
  
"Yes, Aran?" He asked, defeated by reality.  
  
"I think I should go now." She looked up at him, an innocent, girlish look in her eyes. "Thank you," she added softly, turning toward the door.  
  
Adam placed his hand on her shoulder, halting her, but only briefly this time, just long enough to place a kiss atop her head and inhale her intoxicating scent one last time. He heard how her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth and knew she too was fighting the urge to abandon herself to unreality again.  
  
She turned to face him. She'd carefully replaced her contented facial expression with her icy mask. After all, she did have a reputation to maintain. She could not let anyone else know the Ice Queen had, for one night at least, melted. And besides, she preferred to save the idea of the woman beneath the ice for Adam, and Adam only. No one else could have the capacity to touch her the way he had, and the way the memory of him in and all around her always would. For one brief moment she bit on her lower lip in uncertainty, knowing that when she left this room she'd never be able to acknowledge what had happened. Unless, of course, it happened again. The idea made her smirk a bit ruefully. She quickly wiped her face blank of emotion and gave him a terse nod of her head in farewell.  
  
She took hold of the doorknob with a grasp more firm than her convictions about leaving, slowly creaked the door open, and eventually left, all the while very conscious of his gaze on her back. She stalked down the maze of corridors to her quarters, barely aware of how everyone got out of her way and shied from her cold, blank expression. That, she was used to. But for one eternal moment, Adam had made her realize that even Ice Queens had needs, and those needs could be filled by the right person.  
  
She could still taste him, still recall the tingling sensation of his hands upon her body and how he had made her a complete person for that moment in time. But nagging at the edges of her soul was icy cold darkness, a melancholy reminder that her emptiness had only been staved off for a moment; unless she could remain with Adam forever, that emptiness would always follow her and return to haunt her. It was not a comforting thought, but now there was very little she could do about it except try desperately to remember what it felt like for those timeless moments she had been complete. 


	5. Epilogue: Burned Out

iEpilogue: Burned Out/i  
  
Samus sighed and dropped her current now-empty bottle next to the other five. They clinked together musically, and rolled a short distance away. Her hand dangled languidly from the pilot's seat where she had draped herself, and her mouth was full of the strong, bitter taste of vomit. She could not recall the last time she'd been quite this drunk, nor could she remember any other time, other than that night, she'd so badly wanted to drink herself to death, succeeding only in terribly intoxicating herself instead. Now, sitting down, the cockpit seemed to spin around her and the ship's gravity manipulation controls did not help her drunken feelings. Her head felt light, and it took a conscious effort to make her limbs move, which annoyed her. Any time she recalled in detail her tryst with Adam, all she wanted was to hide away. She wanted to curl into her morph ball form and tuck herself in some forgotten corner away from the sight of all existence. She wanted to just wallow in her emptiness and regret, regret brought on by the fact that she could never have back that moment in time---ever again.   
  
"I just don't know anymore," she said at last, voice slurred from intoxication.   
  
"You 'just don't know about' what?" Adam replied with programmed, forced curiosity.  
  
But Samus was far too drunk to feel patronized at this point. "Anything," she drawled. "'Specially life," she finally said. "I can't figure any of it out."  
  
"We are bound by our experiences," he said sensibly, as he always did. "Our experiences tell where we've been, what we've done, whom we have become. To regret our experiences is to regret ourselves." Silence. Then, "Do you have regrets, Samus?"  
  
"No. I don't do regret because it's pointless," she lied, stifling a hiccup. "I can't change what's happened because what's done is done. There's no going back. I can't change myself or what I've become." She did not tell him that she wished she could change herself, that she could go through the remainder of her life without feeling that a piece of her was missing. It was not so much the actual act of lovemaking or sex with Adam she regretted. It was more so the knowledge that there had been a time when she'd been complete, and now, a decade later, there was no bringing that back. She was left completely alone with her emptiness.  
  
They were silent for a time before she finally gave a melancholy chuckle and laboriously straightened up a bit in the chair, hugging her knees to her chest like the scared little child she'd always been deep down, like the scared little child she'd always be. "There were others," she confessed a bit awkwardly, unsure of why she bothered telling him. God, it was just a computer; it wasn't even the real Adam. It wouldn't care about her other encounters, and the idea of feeling embarrassed telling this computer about it was pitiful. Yet a small, still-lucid portion of her consciousness whispered that it was the man the computer represented that made her feel this way.   
  
"There were others," she said again, trying to think of the right way to phrase what she wanted to say, so that it conveyed things in a way the computer could understand---or in such a way that she could understand all those thoughts and feelings she had dealt with by ignoring. "Some of them were better lovers than you, some of them worse. Some I stayed with for a few nights, others a few minutes, but none of it ever meant anything. They were quick jaunts between missions, meant only to satisfy a physical urge."  
  
She was quiet for a time, resting her chin on her knees, and staring out the viewport at the uncountable stars set against the infinite blackness of space. She had traversed the known galaxy, even ventured on the boundaries of the unknown. She had met alien races, seen curious creatures, and set foot on planets untouched by time or civilization. She had watched stars die and nations born, yet everywhere she'd been, and in everything she'd done, there had never been anyone quite like Adam, or anything that filled her and completed her like the night he made love to her. She smiled sadly, blinking back the fine mist of tears forming over her eyes.  
  
"You know," she said, still quite a bit drunk, "I realize more and more everyday that there was never anyone quite like you. And not just because you were the first," she said, shuddering a bit as she thought again on that night he'd taken her and made her whole. "Any others meant nothing to me, because they didn't care about understanding me. I don't think they even knew I was Samus Aran, bounty hunter extraordinaire," she slurred bitterly. "They just cared that I was some nice broad willing to give them some action. I meant nothing to them, just as they meant nothing to me." She stopped herself there; it was pointless to say anything more. This Adam with her now was a computerized version of the Adam she'd known. It was purely intellect, no opinion and no emotion. It. wasn't jealous to know that other men had had sex with her. It probably didn't even care. It held the memories, but only the facts, the mere sequence of events with no emotional investments attached. She realized, very painfully, that she was completely alone now and would be forever. Computerized Adam had been a help, but when she began recalling the real Adam, even that small comfort became nonexistent.  
  
"Did you ever discover what you wanted out of life, Samus?" Adam asked after several minutes of silence.  
  
Bleary eyed and fighting a losing battle against her tears, she looked up. "No," she lied, but found she could not be dishonest with the computer; not out of honor, but out of her love for he whom the computer represented. The real Adam would have seen beyond the "no". He would have looked right in her eyes, seeing through the icy, hardened exterior, and understanding just what that "no" was hiding. "Yes," she sighed after a moment. "And I had it, but..." She choked on a sudden sob. "But then you died, damn you. Fuck it. I'm going for another bottle." Her throat constricted painfully, and she struggled to get up.  
  
"Stay here, Samus," Adam commanded gently. "Don't keep destroying yourself."  
  
"Fine, I'll stay," she said in a cold voice as she stopped in her tracks. "I'll stay right here with you for all eternity, the two of us lost in space on this bloody ship. It could be beautiful, don't you think? Just the two of us…" she drawled as she walked back over to his monitor, trailing her hand over the screen. "The two of us together…" Without even thinking she clumsily peeled her jumpsuit away from her skin, inhaling sharply when the cool air of the cockpit made contact with the exposed flesh. But she continued to slide the full-body suit off of her shivering form until she stood there, naked, before the computer screen. Adam made no hint to suggest he noticed or processed the change.  
  
"What do you see when you look at me?" she asked him for the first time in a decade. "Do you still see the warrior? The lonely woman? How about that lost little girl? What am I to you now?" She knew her dedication to training and conditioning herself had kept her body lean and toned, and knew what the majority of men in any spaceport in the Federation would be willing to give for a night with that body, and what those muscles could do. She knew she still retained much of the physicality of her twenty-one year old self, but mentally and emotionally she was the tired thirty-something of the present. Did Adam see that reality? Or did he still see the younger Samus Aran?  
  
Adam had remained silent during her outburst, and now that she seemed to be finished, he obliged her by replying, "I see Samus Aran; humanoid female with hybridized DNA structure. Class A Bounty Hunter with minimal military experience. Stands five feet eight inches tall, weighing---"  
  
"That's enough," she interrupted quietly, rubbing her arms to warm herself. The chill caused her nipples to stand at attention, but something small like that, that might have aroused Adam before, meant nothing now. Her breasts were merely mammary glands to him, part of the female anatomy that would nourish the children she would never have. Her curves were signs that she was physically fit; and her reproductive system was just that, and nothing more. All mere anatomy. Her eyes weren't windows to her inner soul, just complex ocular organs. She was nothing to him, at least nothing more than a heap of female anatomy, dissipated into drunkenness.   
  
Her unconscious suspicions were now painfully confirmed; this Adam was not, nor would ever be, a substitute for the real Adam, whose gaze had been able to transcend the physicality of the five-foot eight-inch humanoid female and see the aching woman within. Samus took in a breath, forcing it past the rapidly coagulating lump in her throat. There was nothing in him now, not desire, not understanding. He did not want her, he did not want to be with her. Any feelings he had regarding her were programmed and calculated, but nothing else. She turned to go but a few short steps found her lying on the floor, her poisoned coordination at last manifesting itself. She didn't stand up, but instead fought off the moisture that was beginning to gather in her eyes. It was the loneliness clutched at her breast made it difficult to breathe. It was the loneliness she knew would not go away.   
  
For a short while she had been led to believe that she would not be lonely anymore. Having the mind of Adam controlling her ship and guiding her through missions initially seemed ideal. She had been comfortable with him. She had been herself with him. And during the frightening, trying times aboard the Biologic Space Lab, she had relied on him. She should have felt better about herself, about her situation; but now she only hurt more. Love.... that vacuum within her soul was caused by love. She remembered very little about her early childhood; she supposed her human parents had loved her, but she did not recall any memories or feelings to support this. Love was an alien word in the Chozo culture, and though her adoptive parents had nurtured her and provided her needs, there was no love. But with Adam holding her, guiding her, seeing her for who and what she truly was, there had been love, and it had filled her until she felt that she would explode. It was the most beautiful feeling she'd ever experienced. If experiences defined a person, then the lovemaking she'd shared with Adam was her defining moment as a human being. But those experiences were gone now, part of a past filled with darkness, rage, and murder for hire. They stood out like the stars on the velvet infinity that was space: clear and bright, yet still at risk of being enveloped by the darkness. She lay on the cold metal floor, a woman past her prime, drinking herself to oblivion and undressing for, of all things, a computer.  
  
This was not Adam. It was his tactical, military brain, it was generated emotions, it was even his voice to a degree, but it was not the real living, breathing, loving Adam. This computer could do nothing to satisfy her desires for wholeness, physically or emotionally. It could not be one with her in body and spirit. It could call her "Milady" and even "Samus", but it was not the man who had manifested love for her that day over ten years ago.  
  
She hauled herself to her feet, nearly toppling over again, so impaired was her balance.  
  
"Where are you going?" Adam's voice asked her. "Do you require more drink?"  
  
"No. I'm going to bed," she said, not sounding angry or bitter, or even sad; merely, defeated. She rubbed her bleary eyes and willed her vision to focus. "I need to sleep this off," she added lamely. What "this" was, she couldn't name just yet. She couldn't stay out here in the cockpit, reminded of Adam and all she lacked. Even drunk she realized that doing so would be more torment than she needed at this time. She didn't know if it applied to the drunkenness and its inherent hangover, or the deep, empty sadness she felt upon realizing that her hopes for a relationship with this version of Adam were dashed to irreparable, miniscule shards.  
  
"As you wish, Milady," Adam said formally.  
  
Still fighting tears and not trusting her legs to support her, Samus stumbled the short distance to her habitation quarters and keeled over on her hard bed. There was very little to cushion her bones, and soon the hard metal of the frame was digging into her ribs, hips, legs, arms... all over. And it was cold; she felt so chilled she feared she'd never be warm again. Part of that was the side effects of her Metroid DNA, but she knew that mostly it was from the emotional void inside her. Desperately she craved the warmth of Adam flowing into her and consuming her, their two bodies melded into one warm, unified being. But this, of course, was impossible. Morose, bitter, and defeated, Samus wrapped her tired, naked body in the flimsy blankets, buried her head in the excuse for a pillow and wept not only for what she'd lost, but also for all that she would never have, and for all that she would always be. 


End file.
